


Caught in the Act

by raiyana



Series: The Reader Inserts [19]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: I Don't Even Know, I suppose there's some dominance, M/M, Mutual Blowjobs, POV Second Person, Random experiment, Really wish i knew how to tag my works. Sorry bout that, Smut, during the quest, sneaking off for a quickie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 20:19:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12239955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: Hey look, you get to play Dwalin for a moment!Why is Thorin groaning over there, when he's supposed to be sleeping?Dwalin the Investigator (tm) is on the case!





	Caught in the Act

Nightwatch was dull – second watch was the worst, interrupting your sleep completely, but you’d been up in rotation – staring at the same quadrants of squat-all happening for several hours. Ori was meant to be on watch with you, but he’d fallen asleep an hour ago, and you’d not had the heart to wake him. Glóin’s monotonous snore broke the quiet behind you, suddenly interrupted by him turning over, you thought, though you didn’t turn around to see, not wanting to ruin your night-vision by staring at the bright bonfire. The rest of them were snoring in concert; you could pick out Óin’s slight rattle and even Mister Baggins’ light mewly snores with ease. Balin’s low rumbles were competing with Glóin’s, an odd counterpoint concert, though your brother had nothing on your cousin’s volume. Fíli and Kíli were almost indistinguishable, though their snores only reached your ears because they were right behind you. Ori’s soft snuffles were almost silent from where he was leaning against a tree to your right. For a moment, you thought you heard something that didn’t fit with the usual night-time concerto, but when it didn’t repeat itself you waved it off as your own fanciful imagination. Why would any of them be awake, after all, it was the middle of the night; you wished _you_ were sleeping too.

The sound came again, behind you and slightly to the left. _Thorin?_ You turned your head slightly, carefully not looking directly at the fire. Thorin was lying with his back towards you, but his stout form was moving beneath his blanket. _Was he having a nightmare?_ Staring at him for a minute, moving nearly frantically beneath the blanket, you wondered what to do. Thorin didn’t often dream at all, it was more likely _your_ nightmares that woke him in the night. A look up at the moon told you it was nearly an hour till watch change; Balin wouldn’t appreciate being woken early, and Dori even less so. With a sigh, you got to your feet, picking your way over to Thorin’s bedroll. The King was groaning – _was he in pain?_ – but just as you reached for his shoulder to shake him awake, you froze, recognising the sound.

“Dwalin…” he moaned. You stopped breathing, staring at his dark head. He was dreaming about _you…_ your thoughts whirled, wishing you had time and privacy to indulge whatever whim had him so close to reaching the pinnacle of pleasure; something always worth watching. “Dwal- fuck,” came his voice, low and fervent, and suddenly you realised that Thorin was _not_ asleep at all. His hand kept moving rhythmically, his breathing fast and interrupted by the groans you had heard from your place on watch kept spilling from his lips. Kneeling behind him, you felt torn between speaking and letting him continue to believe his efforts remained hidden from you. On that thought, the sudden swallow of excess saliva in your mouth informed you that _hidden_ should _not_ be an option… it had been far too long since your well-spent night in the Hobbit’s burrow and you wondered if you dared lift the blanket to see the show. Thorin continued to tempt you, low moans rumbling in his throat, kept behind his teeth with sheer force of will. Moving before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned in, grabbing his pumping hand through the blanket. Thorin froze instantly.

“It’s an hour till watch-change, Thorin, can you wait that long for me?” you murmured directly into his ear, surprised by how husky your voice had gone. Wrapping your lips around the small silver cuff he wore, you tugged gently, teasing him with your tongue.

“D-Dwalin?” he stuttered, remaining stiff as a board; embarrassed to be caught out, you realised. You hummed softly. Stroking the bulge that was his hand, still hidden by the blanket, you felt him tremble.

“You’re a naughty Dwarf, my King,” you whispered, loving the way he shivered at the sultry tone.

“Dwalinnn…” he moaned. “I just…”

“Very naughty… starting without me…” Nipping his ear, you smirked when you heard him gasp, felt the fist beneath the blanket move. Turning over, Thorin stared up at you, his lips shiny with spit and far too tempting. You shivered. His pupils were blown wide with lust, staring at your face, his eyes flicking down to follow the path of your tongue as you licked your lips, suddenly desperate to taste him. Bending down, you kissed him hard, swallowing his moan as your free hand wrapped around one of his temple braids.

“Dwalin!” he groaned, struggling to free one hand from his blanket and sliding his thick dextrous fingers into your beard, the callouses of swordplay and forge-work pleasingly rough against your skin, tugging on the strands. “Please…” he murmured, though your reply was lost in the deepest reaches of his mouth, snaking your tongue inside for a taste. Pulling back, you were both breathing faster.

“One hour,” you promised, leaning in to kiss him one last time before getting to your feet and moving back to your post, your own groin throbbing with swiftly suppressed lust. What you wouldn’t give for the proper things necessary to take him apart, release the tension that had made him snappy for days.

 

Waking Balin was never difficult – something you felt thankful for, wanting to return to Thorin as soon as possible. You had resisted the temptation to look at him as you finished your watch, so you had no idea whether he would be asleep or if he had decided to finish his ‘task at hand’. You chuckled at the thought, feeling almost like you were back in Erebor, sneaking off for a thryst in the armoury; it had been a while.

“Be good to him, eh, brother,” Balin rumbled, patting your shoulder and giving you a sly wink. You scowled at him, though the silly grin broke free easily, Balin returning the expression with a fond headshake.

“Mind your own business, nadad,” you muttered, but not at all embarrassed. It wasn’t like Balin did _know_ what you got up to with Thorin – after this many years, you didn’t think anyone was unaware of your place in his heart… or his bed.

“He’s been looking at you for days,” Balin whispered, winking conspiratorially, “only don’t tell him I told you.” With an innocent smile, Balin went to wake Dori. You shook your head; you had noticed – and returned – quite a few longing glances, but intimacy was not easily found in camp. Tonight, however, you didn’t care about waking anyone. Turning around, you looked straight at Thorin’s blue eyes, open wide and taking in every part of you. He smiled. Without thought, you moved forwards, holding out your hand to pull him to his feet. Raising an eyebrow in question, Thorin followed you wordlessly as you tugged him out of sight among the trees.

“Tell me,” you whispered, when you judged you’d gone far enough from the Company that you wouldn’t be overheard too easily. Thorin flinched.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, flush cheeks making you want to watch the blush spread lower. “I was just too frustrated… I thought perhaps it might help…” he sighed again, closing his eyes. You frowned. Was he embarrassed that he’d been playing with himself to thoughts of you – because, honestly, that was the only acceptable person in his head at such a moment, you thought – or was he embarrassed to have been caught? Slowly reaching upward, pleased that he didn’t ty to escape your touch, you managed to grab one of those temple braids – someone should thank Durin for making such good reins part of the markers of Royalty, you thought vaguely – pulling him back to your mouth. Kissing Thorin would never get dull, you thought, deepening the kiss. Thorin groaned. Suddenly, his arms were tight around your body, his hands roaming down over your arse.

“Thorin…” you moaned into his mouth. “I meant,” kissing was not enough, you thought, but you never wanted to stop, either, “tell me what you want.” Letting go of one braid, you trailed your hand down his chest – the chainmail was in the way, but you had seen him naked often enough to imagine what lay beneath – until you could cup his firmly interested hammer. Stroking him through his trousers made him hiss out a gasp, forcing you backwards with the strength of his kisses until you found your back against the bark of a thick tree, one of Thorin’s hands tangled in your axe harness, the other one squeezing your arse as he thrust into your hand.

“Fuck, Dwalin,” he muttered huskily, “anything you’d like.” He moved his mouth across your jaw, trailing burning kisses down your neck. The hand at your chest followed the leather straps that crossed your chest, stroking down until he could return the grip you had on him.

“What did you think about earlier?” you whispered, nipping at his ear again. Thorin groaned into your skin, his hands flexing. Breathing hard, Thorin returned to your lips, scrambling your mind as his hand set to work undoing your laces.

“You look… so… fuck, Dwalin, you know how good-looking you are!” he growled, his voice low and husky in the way that sent shivers down your spine, plunging his hand inside your trousers, “I caught sight of you licking your lips earlier, when we were eating,” he admitted, “your lips were so shiny…” You moaned when he began stroking you, the rhythm slow and easy. Thorin chuckled.

“My mouth, is it, my Thorin?” you asked, feeling his hammer twitch in your hand at the offer. Pushing his trousers down around his knees, you pulled his hand out of yours, turning him around so he was up against the tree and wrapping your hands around his hips to hold him steady. Thorin growled, testing your strength, but you held him firm, knowing it only turned him on more when he knew he had to surrender control. “Did you want me to crawl beneath the blanket and lick you?” you whispered as you sank to your knees. Leaning in, you licked him lightly, rasping your beard against his furry thighs. Thorin cursed above you.

“Dwalin, _please_ …” he moaned, running both hands over your scalp and into your hair, pressing your head into his groin. You chuckled, wrapping your lips around the tip of his hammer and sucking it lightly, teasing him as you looked up to find him staring down at you, his eyes wild. Reaching up, you squeezed his hand, giving him silent permission to tighten his grip. You began slowly – he was by no means _small,_ even if the girth was familiar on your tongue – using your hand to stroke the parts you couldn’t reach and making him slick with your saliva. He tasted like skin, and a little salty, and the smell of him seemed to surround you, making you want him more. Thorin’s thighs were corded with muscle, tight with tension, but he didn’t move; allowed you to set the pace. You hardly needed to hold his hip with your free hand, but you did it anyway, squeezing lightly, just to remind him of your strength. Thorin controlled himself ruthlessly, hardly even twitching to get further into your mouth. Smirking up at him, you sank a little further down on him. Pulling back, you kissed the head softly, continuing your slippery strokes as you turned your attention to the stones that hung heavy below. Thorin groaned; you felt his fingers twitch as your tongue made contact with the furry sac, sucking one of his stones into your warm mouth. “Dwalin!” Thorin cursed.

“Impatient, my Thorin?” you teased, releasing one stone and drawing the other into your mouth. Thorin just groaned. Chuckling, you pulled back, returning your attention to his hammer, dragging the head of it along your lips, making them shine in the moonlight. Thorin chuckled, making your look up at him with a smirk. His answering smile was quickly transformed into a nearly pained hiss as you drew it further into your mouth, your lips forming a seal as you sucked him deeper.

“So… good…” he moaned, but he still wasn’t losing his self-control, still wasn’t giving you what you suddenly wanted. Placing both your hands on his thighs for leverage, you bobbed your head further, speeding up his strokes into your mouth. Thorin’s hands tightened, and finally the pleasure overrode his restraint, making him thrust his hips forward, pushing himself deeper into your mouth, as his hands pulled your head closer. Swirling your tongue as you pulled back, you looked up to see his hair thunk back against the tree, Thorin’s eyes half-closed as his hips moved involuntarily. Smirking, you drove forwards once more, making a pleased sound in your throat when he caught the rhythm, the tip of him entering your throat as he kept thrusting lightly. Squeezing your left thumb between the fingers of that hand – a trick one of your old bedmates had once taught you – you killed your gag-reflex, nosing against the dark hair that trailed upwards from his groin as your throat fluttered around him. Thorin shouted out hoarsely, one hand coming to rest lightly against your throat, feeling every thrust from the outside. Smirking up at him, Thorin’s hips moved without conscious command as he stared wide-eyed at you. “Dwal…” he cried out when you swallowed. You hadn’t done this in far too long, you realised, giving him an apologetic lick when you pulled back, drawing in a quick breath before sinking back down the length of him once more, humming softly around him. Thorin cursed again. “Please, Dwalin,” he begged – music to your ears – as his hands kept flexing in your hair, thrusting himself into your throat. “Please don’t stop – oh, Maker, please – please, love, Dwal- Dwaliiin!” he babbled, ending on a near scream as his hips stuttered. Drawing back, you felt him fill your mouth; warm, salty, somehow a little sweet. Swallowing his spend swiftly, you kept licking him gently, softly cleaning off any excess until Thorin protested weakly, his eyes falling shut as he slumped against the tree. You drew back, a smirk playing around your mouth.

“Was that what you wanted, my King?” you teased, sitting back on your heels, staring at the results of your efforts and licking your lips. Your hand reached into your trousers, wrapping around your own hammer as you stared at the tempting sight. Thorin looked well-wrecked, even if he was still mostly dressed, breathing hard, and apparently unable to speak; a perfect image of debauched royalty. Slowly, his eyes blinked open, staring at you with those blue eyes, still dark with lust but with a sated look to them that made you feel warm. Thorin fell to his knees, leaning in to kiss you again, playing with your tongue.

“Much better than in my head,” he admitted between kisses. Pushing on your shoulders, he followed you down, continuing to kiss you languidly as one of his hands moved down, pushing your own hand away to let him play with your large hammer. “I missed you.”

“Thooorin…” you groaned, spreading your legs lightly; the snugness of your trousers hampered his efforts, but Thorin didn’t let that deter him, tickling your skin.

“I love the way you moan my name,” he murmured, nipping at your bottom lip, drawing it into his warm mouth.

“Don’t tease me!” you complained when his thumb flicked across the wet head, teasing back and forth with a light tickling touch. Thorin smirked. You swatted at his shoulder. “Thorin!” you complained, nipping at his lip. He chuckled, kissing you playfully.

“Mmmm, but what if I need more material for my late-night fancies?” he whispered, trailing kisses down your throat, his short beard dragging against yours. You whined. Thorin hummed, sucking a bruise into your skin; it would be hidden by your beard, you knew, but the sensation was nearly overwhelming.

“You’re a tease, amrâlimê,” you grumbled, thrusting into his touch and running your hands down his back, drawing his tunic and mail shirt up enough to cup his arse in your palms.

“I wish we had some slick,” he admitted, his back bowing to press back against your fingers as you teased his hole.

“Trust me,” you groaned at the thought, “I wish we had some, too.” Thorin chuckled into your throat, kissing as far down as the lacings at the neck of your tunic would let him. Drawing your trousers lower, he set his mouth to the task of apologising thoroughly for the lack. Clenching your hands in his hair – you weren’t worried about hurting him… much – you pressed him closer, a needy whine in your throat.

“Yess…” Thorin moaned, planting his fists on either side of your hips as he took you into his mouth.

“Were you thinking about this too?” you murmured, tangling your fingers in the thick dark strands, pulling them away to let you look into his blue eyes, filled with love and lust as he drooled down your shaft. Thorin nodded, one hand reaching up to push yours tighter against his skull. You smirked, pulling him back a little. “Want to be taken, my king?” you husked, barely waiting for the nod before you pressed him down once more, enjoying the way he moaned. This wasn’t easy on him, an awkward position for the proper hammering he really wanted – and the wrong hole, too - you knew, pulling him back off you by the hair. Thorin whined low in his throat, but he returned to your mouth willingly when you tugged, kissing you slowly. “On your knees, then, love,” you murmured against his lips, taking Thorin’s abandoned place resting against the tree, fisting yourself slowly as he rose to his knees before you. Reaching for him, you wrapped your hands in the dark silk once more.

“Do it properly, Dwalin,” he ordered, making you chuckle at the commanding tone. You thrust forward without warning, knowing he could take it; Thorin had never been as plagued by his gag-reflex as you were.

“Mmmh, Thorinnnn,” you groaned, using those braids as reins to guide him where you wanted him the most, forcing your way into his throat and enjoying the way his moans vibrated around you; the whine when you pulled back one of the most satisfying sounds you knew. “This what you needed, my love?” you husked, speeding up. “Want to take me deep into that pretty throat, milk me every time you swallow, hmm?” The words tended to spill from your lips whenever you were inside him; where Thorin was capable of little more than groans, he loved listening to your husky words as much as whatever he was doing to elicit the praise you gave him. “You’re so good at this, Thorin,” you murmured, stroking his jaw; part of you wondered what it would have been like to add his beard to your list of handholds, but it was stolen with the next swish of his tongue. “Such a wanton mouth on you, my King, my love, taking me so well.” Holding him still with your hands, you felt him swallow repeatedly around the head of your hammer, shuddering in pleasure. “Fuck, Thorin,” you groaned, yanking your hips back and hearing him gasp in a breath before you thrust yourself back into that sinfully hot mouth. “So close, love, please…” You felt his hands stroking up your thighs, one of them cupping your stones and lifting them slightly, rolling them between his fingers as the other travelled further ack, dragging the pad of his finger across your hole, tickling the rim. “Mahal, Thorin,” you grunted, thrusting rapidly. “Take me, love,” you begged, even if he was already swallowing all of you on every pass, his nose pressing into your stomach. Looking down, you caught those blue eyes staring up at you, Thorin’s lips stretched tight, his pupils blown wide with lust. You groaned. “Yes, you do, my pretty One, so good… fuck! So close, Thorin, please, oh, Maker!” Crying out, you lost control, your hips stuttering, “Don’t stop, Thorin, my Thorin, yes, yes, yes!” Your babble trailed off into a roar of pleasure as you exploded, flooding Thorin’s mouth with your seed, your head falling back against the tree with a loud thud. Your hands released his hair, but Thorin kept bobbing slowly, his clever tongue wringing every ounce of pleasure from your body. When you finally had enough, pushing him away weakly, Thorin smirked up at you, giving you one last lingering kiss before he tugged your trousers back up, tying the laces carefully. Getting to his feet, he pulled you in for a sweet kiss, making you growl low in your throat and wrap your arms around him, wanting to sink into blissful lassitude with him, preferably back home, wrapped in your warm furs in your cosy bed.

“We should get back to camp, love,” he murmured, making you sigh heavily.

“Aye, my lovely,” you agreed, pulling him back for more kisses, “we should.” Continuing the languid kissing, you set Thorin’s clothes to rights, though you couldn’t help running your hands over the tempting curves of his arse as you pulled up his trousers. Thorin laughed huskily; you stole the sound from his lips, using your grip to press him tight against you – both of you feeling a resurgence of interest stir. With one last kiss and a sigh of regret, you let him go, kissing the pout off his lips as your hands left his body. Thorin leaned his forehead against yours, stealing another kiss before he pulled away, turning his attention to his own laces. You yawned lightly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice a little rough, cupping your cheek, “I shouldn’t have kept you awake.” Chuckling, you kissed him once more, before turning to head back to camp, taking a firm grip on Thorin’s hand to ensure he followed.

“I’m not complaining, love,” you smiled, “I think we both needed that.” Thorin’s rumbling laugh filled the air, brightening your world in time with the rising sun.

“Maybe,” he smiled cheekily, “I certainly did.”


End file.
